One’s very own room, ventilated to please one’s self, furnished just as one wishes, with one’s pet belongings arranged to suit one’s own tastes; an entire bed in which one may pitch and toss, stretch and yawn, without the consciousness that another would-be sleeper is being annoyed – all of these are aids to happiness.
– Virginia Terhune Van de Water, “From Kitchen to Garret,” (Published in 1910)
Notes: Quote via Schonwieder. Photo via Sabon Home
…wake up at six in the morning to make coffee…stay in bed, curled up under the comforter, hair tangled, skin warm, purring with pleasure.
~ Maylis de Kerangal, The Heart: A Novel
Photo: Barber in Moustache Magazine, Dec 2, 2015 (via mennyfox55)
That sound of settling into the sheets and the covers has to be one of the best things in the world. Sleep is a mercy. You can feel it coming on, like being swept up in something.
– Marilynne Robinson, Lila: A Novel
Notes: Photo: Tatiana Koshutina (via see more). Quote via quotespile
On some nights it’s best to stop thinking about the past, and all that’s been won and lost.
On nights like this, just getting into bed, crawling between the clean white sheets, is a great relief.
— Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic
Notes: Photo – windworkss. Quote – shitiunderline
The best thing about the bedroom was the bed.
I liked to stay in bed for hours,
even during the day with covers pulled up to my chin.
It was good in there,
nothing ever occurred in there,
no people,
nothing.
~ Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye
Notes: Quote – Schonwiener. Photograph: Aveline Gunawan with Don’t wake me up
Nothing will persuade me that sleep is not really quite positive, some forgotten refreshment at the ancient fountains of life. If this is not so, why do we cling to sleep when we have already had enough of it; why does waking up always seem like descending from heaven upon earth? I believe that sleep is a sacrament; or, what is the same thing, a food.
— G.K. Chesterton, Lunacy and Letters
Notes: Quote – Thank you Kurt @ Cultural Offering. Photo: pinterest
5:40 am.
I let Zeke out.
I step onto the porch. Shiver. 23° F. Dark and Cold.
There’s less than a inch, but it’s there, Snow smothering Spring.
Zeke comes trotting back in, he’s wiggling, with a full body twist and turn. How come I’m not that happy after solving my internal blockages?
My running watch, fully charged, rests on the counter, waiting to connect to the satellites circling overhead. My running shoes and running gear, set out last night, are poised and ready for the firing of the starter’s pistol. My water bottle, filled and ice cold, waits silently in the refrigerator. The team is ready.
Last night’s intention — was to run early and long this morning.
I look at the gear again. Go. Now. Go. Take that first step. Do it.
Mind shifts to breakfast. Hash browns, bacon and scrambled eggs. Potatoes from Idaho, brown and crispy on top, with a stream of Heinz. The intoxicating smell of Bacon. Eggs from free range chickens, yellow and cheesy on top. Toast (home made thick crusted white bread), glistening from butter produced on a farm in Wisconsin — one piece laced with golden honey from a bee hive in Maine, and the second with dark, sweet grape jelly from some vineyard in California. All washed down with sweet Orange Juice from Brazil. [Read more…]
“(noun) Defined as an overwhelming desire to stay in bed, clinomania is at its peak during chilly, autumn and snowy days, as well as during the peaceful, rainy afternoons of summer. Chances are when clinomania strikes, your only wish is to stay in bed, rest, and catch up on your favorite tv series and go on a Netflix binge! Many of us who experience clinomania usually find it difficult to get up in the mornings. We look forward to the weekends and despise Monday mornings.”
Notes: Word Definition Source: Words N Quotes. Gif: Violent Waves of Emotion (Le Petit Soidat 1963 Dir Jean-Luc Goddard with Anna Karina)
But the pleasant thing is to wake early, throw open the window, and lie reading in bed.
– Edward Fitzgerald, from a letter to W. F. Pollock, May 3, 1840
Credits: Image Source: thesensualstarfish. Quote: Just Saying
All good on the caffeine, alcohol and exercise fronts! (So sad on the latter)!
Source: The Huffington Post via Ilovecharts
[…] the lightest touch,
a breeze arriving from nowhere,
a whispered healing arrival,
a word in your ear,
a settling into things,
then like a hand in the dark
it arrests the whole body,
steeling you for revelation.
In the silence that follows […]
~ David Whyte, The Lightest Touch
Sources:
Run? Later.
Mindless web surfing.
Saturday morning papers in bed.
Background music on Pandora.
Shower? Shave? No. Sweatpants.
Breakfast: French Toast with hot maple cream syrup.
Old episodes of “Cheers.”
Words with Friends.
Short walk with Zeke.
Lunch: Piping hot tomato soup and Grilled Cheese.
Curl up on couch in attic. Rain (forecasted) pattering on roof.
Samuel Beckett’s “Three Novels: Molloy. Malone. Unnamable.”
Drift into Long nap.
Run? Later.
Gentle foreign film whisking me off to Paris.
Run? Maybe.
In a place like Paris, the air is so thick with dreams they clog the streets and take all the good tables at the cafés. Poets and writers, models and designers, painters and sculptors, actors and directors, lovers and escapists, they flock to the City of Lights. That night at Polly’s, the table spilled over with the rapture of pilgrims who have found their temple. That night, among new friends and safe at Shakespeare and Company, I felt it too. Hope is a most beautiful drug.
— Jeremy Mercer, Time Was Soft There: A Paris Sojourn at Shakespeare & Co.
SMWI* = Saturday Morning Work-out Inspiration. Image Credit. Quote Source: Schonwieder
Live & Learn 